Feyre's sacrifice
by fireheartmatilda
Summary: What would have happened if Tamlin hadn't saved Rhysand in that cave? What would Feyre have done to protect the male who had saved her in so many ways?


Feyre watched those piercing green eyes examining her and her mate, where she clutched him on the floor of that cave. She didn't care what it took, he had to help her, because the alternative…she wouldn't think of that, she couldn't. Gripping her truest reason for existence, Feyre watched as Tamlin backed out of that cave. Shrieking with uncontained agony, Feyre flung out her powers to him, the shield to prevent him leaving them snapping up the moment after he winnowed away. No. Feyre didn't know if she whispered or screamed it, and all of her senses abandoned her. Without the strength in her, Feyre couldn't stop the hands that pulled her away from her mate. Her mate who had given everything to save those he loved. Her mate who had so much to live for. And he hadn't deemed it enough to save himself. His cousin, who now cried silently, curled against the wall of the cave, with Vivaine's arms around her, wasn't enough. His brother and general, who now knelt helplessly gripping the corpse's hand, with that silence in his head that he had described for Feyre, wasn't enough. His shadowsinger and other brother, now kneeling beside Cassian, his tears falling onto Rhys' chest, showing more emotion than Feyre had ever seen him show, wasn't enough. And her, his mate and the future that she had planned with him, who he had given a reason to live, wasn't enough. Feyre wanted to scream at him for what he had kept from her, because she wouldn't have done it and he knew that. Without him, she felt empty and this was a void that Feyre knew no one could ever fill. She longed for the guidance of the Suriel, for someone to tell her that what she was going to do was right. For she had decided, the moment that the High Lord of the Spring court had left, she had decided what she would do. He had a life ahead of him, a family to care for and a city to protect. He was loved and he was needed. More than anyone. Standing on shaking feet, Feyre ignored the eyes that went to her. She walked over to the frozen Cassian and wiped the tears that were forming once more in her own eyes. Drawing his gaze to her, she smiled gently at him, taking in the features of his face, hollow and empty.

"Cassian," she started, her voice quiet. "I'm sorry that it is quiet, but I need you to fight the quiet the same way that you fight everything. I need you to fill your life with music and light and training. The silence in your head isn't who you are. You are early morning training, and roaring laughs, you are the person who when I first met him offered to bite me, because you wanted to make me laugh, or smile. Please be that person again." His face still seemed absent as Feyre moved away, but she hoped that he would remember them, those words and wished. Nearing Azriel, Feyre clutched his hand and felt her already broken heart, fracture as she regarded the misery lining his features and his tear stained cheeks. She could fix it. "Thank you, my friend, for teaching me to fly. For being the calming force behind our circle. For understanding what it is like to feel as though you don't belong." She leaned forwards, and kissed his cheek, tasting the tears on his face. She wanted to say more, so much more to the family that she loved so much, but she didn't know how much time she had left. If it weren't for the family she needed to reassure, she would have given herself as soon as Tamlin had left. Instead, she approached the woman who had shown her what it was to survive horrors and still be open, be happy. The woman who was her sister and her best friend. Vivaine moved away and Feyre crouched beside Mor, transferring the weeping woman into the High Lady's arms. The tears that ran down Mor's cheeks made Feyre's heart ache, but made her even more resolute. She cupped Mor's cheek and pulled her head away from her chest, forcing her to stare into her eyes. "Morrigan," she couldn't help the tears that escaped her eyes then. "Mor. I love you and I am so sorry for all that is happened and that is still to happen. When I first met you, I was a broken person, who thought myself incapable of happiness. You were a bright light, who refused to let her shadows dim her shine. You knew that I needed a friend, before I did and your friendship has meant everything to me. I am so happy that you trusted me enough to tell me about yourself, and wish I could have seen you happy. I love you, my sister." Slowly leaning down to kiss her friend's brow, she hoped that her friend wouldn't lose any of that light that Feyre loved her for. She hoped they would all live happily, for it was for them too that she was doing this. Leaving her perplexed friend, Feyre turned away and walked to the mouth of the cave where the other High Lords stood. Tarquin looked distraught and confused, whilst Helion bore an expression of understanding. I was to him that Feyre spoke. "I have some messages that I need you to give people." Helion gave a short nod, though silver lined his eyes. "I need you to tell Lucien that he was my first true friend and that I forgave him a long time ago. Tell him that I'm sorry and that Rhysand knows who he really is." Feyre just wanted to leave her friend with that, knowing where he came from. Helion just nodded at her to continue, through her now chocked voice. "Tell my sisters, that I know that I held us together, but they don't need me. Tell them that they can have anything they want in life and that they should find happiness." More tears fell down her cheeks, but Feyre willed them to stop. She could be strong, for all of them. "And tell Rhys," her voice broke and Feyre closed her eyes. "Please tell him that I love him, and that I'm sorry, but the world needs him, his family needs him, Velaris needs him." She nodded and stepped away from Helion now. The cave had gone deathly silent behind her, but Feyre wouldn't let anything stop her now. Her mind was made up. Tarquin regained the ability to speak first.

"Feyre, you can't." His voice broke. "I won't let you." He reached out for her arm, and she knew that for their friendship, he would stop her, he would hold her back. Regretting what she would have to do, Feyre tore through his shield, holding his mind with her own. She hated herself as she watched him stiffen and freeze, unable to move, to do anything. Walking closer to him, she stroked back a loose stand of white gleaming hair.

"I am sorry, my friend. You mustn't blame yourself for this. I chose my own fate. I wish I could have helped you fix the gap between the High Fae and the lesser faeries. I wish I can had years of visiting you for summer solstice, of walking through the summer court streets and trying new things. You were very easy to love, and even easier to be friends with." Stepping away from him, Feyre continued to hold his mind, fearing what he may do otherwise. As guilty as she felt, she would do the same to any one of them who tried to stop her. Turning back to the rest of the group, Feyre smiled sadly. It wasn't until Cassian's arms wrapped around her that she realised that he had moved. Struggling from his grip, Feyre cried, as she felt the tears shaking through his body. Seconds later, Azriel's shadows swarmed over her, and darkness was all that Feyre could see. What she had to do next was what hurt her the most. Calling upon the wind of the day court, Feyre flung her family to the other side of the cave, careful not to hurt them. She felt them spring for her once more, but a dark wall of shadow shot up between them. They banged against the hardened air that blocked their view, and Feyre cried as she heard her court. Azriel's quiet pleading voice, Cassian's fierce yells and Mor's desperate cries. She tried to block them out, stepping once more towards her mate, when another hand gripped her and spun her around. Feyre blinked in confusion, knowing she still held Tarquin's mind. It was the Lady of the Winter court, however, who stood behind her, tears shining in her eyes.

"Feyre, you can't. You can't leave them." Feyre flinched at her words.

"I'm giving them something better. They need him, the world needs him." Her eyes flicked to the High Lord of Winter, gazing forlornly at the girl to whom he'd given a drop of his power, the girl who had saved them all. "You would do the same." Vivaine's eyes rested on her own mate, before letting go of Feyre's wrist. Finally, Feyre knelt beside her mate. Finally, she could restore things to how they were supposed to be. Her family's cries continued, but Feyre pressed a hand on the wall separating them. "I'm sorry." Their voices quietened, as they listened to her words. "Make him happy, won't you? Don't let what I've done break him." She paused, before turning away. "I love you all." Cassian's banging against the wall began again, and Azriel's and Mor's joined his. Feyre just pretended not to hear them, it was easier that way. Smiling down at her mate, the High Lord of the Night court, Feyre let her final tears fall onto his cheeks. "Please forgive me." Then, lowering her mouth to his own, Feyre kissed her mate deeply, letting all of her power, everything she had, flow into him. It had to be enough, even with her drained magic. A life for a life. Mor screamed as she saw the light radiating off of her friend, even through the shield. Breaking away, Feyre gazed down at her mate, desperation lining her features. After but a few moments, though, Rhysand's eyes flickered open, and Feyre beamed down at her mate. He seemed confused, but wouldn't tear his eyes from Feyre's.

"Feyre darling, what happened? I saw Tamlin leave, from where I was. How, how did you…?" His voice trailed off as he noticed the frozen High Lord of Summer, the darkened shield and the cries of his court. His eyes returned to those fading eyes of his mate, as her smile became weak, and she collapsed onto his chest. Snapping up immediately, Rhysand cradled Feyre's head in his lap, stroking her hair. "Oh no, no, no, no, no. Gods, please! What have you done?" She just rolled her eyes, refusing to look away from him, however drained she felt.

"So ungrateful." She let out a small laugh, before her expression turned serious. "I'm sorry, Rhys." He didn't bother to blink back his tears, as he gripped her desperately, yelling for her to hold on, to help him. She wouldn't cry, not when she saw her mate again, alive, his violet eyes, though shining with tears, bright as ever. Her mind was blurring and Feyre felt herself slipping away. "Prick." She murmured, quietly, but for her sake, Rhys smiled and Feyre knew it was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen in her life. "There you are. I've been looking for you." Her eyes fluttered furiously, but she willed herself to hold for a moment more. "To the people who look at the stars and…" Her breaths became laboured, but as the light dimmed from her eyes, Rhys found the strength to say it.

"Wish." And with that, the High Lady of the Night Court died, letting the darkness welcome her like an old friend. This was what she had been given this time to do. To help save the world and the man above her. Eventually, though, she would have to continue that journey that had started a year ago under the mountain.

Rhysand wouldn't break down, not here. He couldn't do anything, just kneel on the floor of that cave, holding the limp body of the woman who had saved him in so many ways. He could only kneel as that wall of darkness vanished and Tarquin's mind was returned to him. As the shield came down, the three remaining members of the Inner Circle collapsed as though they had been pressing desperately against that wall, trying to reach their High Lady and family. Mor fell beside Feyre, clutching her hand and sobbing uncontrollably. Cassian sunk down to the floor, as the silence returned. He couldn't help it, whatever Feyre had told him. With his High Lady and friend, his strength to fight the silence had died, and so he just remained on the floor of that cave, staring distantly at the sky, visible through the mouth of the cave. Azriel gripped Rhysand's shoulder, as much to support his brother as to hold himself up. His wings flared out, as he viewed Feyre's own wings, fallen at her side. Those same wings that he had strengthened and taught her how to use. They had spent hours together in those woods, and with everything that they had both been through, Azriel had begun to wonder if anyone had ever understood his past as much as she had. Now, her own wings, were limp and the sight of them broke Azriel, as sobs escaped him. A small noise came from the Cauldron, that had Varian lunging for it, and he pulled out a soaking Amren. Rhysand had pulled her back from wherever he had been, before he had woken up to this nightmare. Amren took in the scene before her before collapsing into Varian's arms, who held her as though he would never let her go. Rhysand just stared at the face of his beloved, the screams and cries of his family encircling him. It was too much, all of it. He had lost her too many times, when she had died under the mountain, when she had walked away from under the mountain, when she had returned to the spring court after Hybern. Nothing matched what he felt now, though, as horror and agony shredded away at his soul, and he held in every emotion he ever felt, refusing to let the beast inside of him out.

Steps echoed at the mouth of the cave, and the gathered party twisted to see who had arrived, who was to be subject to this raw pain. Rhys raised his eyes to watch the remaining Archeron sisters run into the cave.

"We saw the light, even from the hill, we saw the light. We had returned to the camp, after we parted with Cassian, and when we…" Elain's soft, sorrowful voice faded off as she took in the faces of those in the cave. Rhys realised that her view of her sister was blocked by the High Lords, and that her pain was from the death of her father. He didn't care, he couldn't bring himself to do anything but watch as the brightest light in the sisters' lives was taken away. The High Lords, excluding Tarquin, who seemed in a state of shock, as though still frozen by Feyre's power, stepped back slightly, so Rhys could see the bloodied bodies of Nesta and Elain. No one said anything, waiting for the sisters to witness what had happened. Rhys couldn't bring himself to move, to show them or tell them what had occurred. Instead, he listened as Nesta's breath hitched and she staggered over to the wall of the cave, before sinking against it, her gasping sobs buried in her hands. Elain remained frozen for a moment, blinking at the corpse of the sister that had fought for her so hard, before her expression turned stony and cold. She said nothing, simply walked over to Nesta and sat beside her, her eyes remaining fixed on the body. At some point, Rhys realised, Beron had left, but he didn't care. His only thoughts were centred upon the woman in his arms, growing as cold as her beautiful ice magic. What was he supposed to do now?

An hour later, the cave was silent, but none of the people had moved. They didn't talk to each other, but they sat in each other's company, if only because it stopped them breaking down. The silence was interrupted by heavy footsteps as they walked into the cave slowly. Rhysand watched as Eris approached, noting the lack of change in Mor's expression, because she didn't have the capacity to care about anything other than her friend right now. Eris gave a low bow, before locking gazes with Rhys.

"I'm sorry for your loss. She saved us all, and she will never be forgotten." Rhys couldn't help the relief that no one had said her name, because he didn't know if he could bear hearing it. Eris paused, and Rhys prayed to the Mother that he would say what he had to say, and leave. He had no place here. "They have gathered on the battlefield. They need to hear what happened to her. They are expecting to greet their saviour." Rhys shuddered, thinking about what would be happening right now if Feyre hadn't saved him. She would be greeting the people that she helped save, she would have a life ahead of her. He barely registered the rest of Eris' words, but Mor did.

"Who are 'they'?" She bit out, and Eris shot her a sympathetic look, that Rhys decided didn't suit him at all.

"Everyone. Every Illyrian, soldier, and…" he paused. "Miryam and Draykon and their army." Rhys already knew about that. He had greeted them on the battlefield. He waited for Eris to continue, but the son of the High Lord of the Autumn court simply hovered at the mouth of the cave, before dipping his head and winnowing away. Rhysand stared at his mate, before scanning the gaunt faces of the people in the room. Then, without saying anything, Rhysand stood, Feyre's body lying in his arms, so peaceful that she could be sleeping. The rest of his court stood, and followed their High lord and Lady out of the cave, and to the battlefield. It was a strange group, but one united in their grief. High Lords, High Fae, Illyrians. Together, but without the person that had saved them all.

When they reached the battlefield, the crowds grew silent, and applause broke out as the High Lords were recognised, as these people greeted their saviours. All but one. The soldiers had stopped before a small strip of raised ground to which Rhysand now approached. He wouldn't meet their eyes, or accept their applause, because it was meant for someone who had left them, who couldn't hear it. They needed to know, but Rhysand didn't know if he could bring himself to utter it. Reaching out to the tendrils of his power, Rhysand let Feyre lie of a raised bed of darkness in front of those crowds. The applause petered out as the people realised this was not a celebration. Rhysand stood a step back from the body of his mate, and Mor, Azriel, Cassian, Amren, Nesta and Elain stood in a line behind him, staring down the crowd, as Rhys mustered the strength to say it. Her delicate face was framed by the darkness that seemed to comfort the High Lady of the Night court. That power that was a part of her. Something seemed to change under her then, and Rhys watched as blue water tendrils joined his own darkness, and Tarquin stepped onto that raised ground, tears running down his cheeks for the dear friend that he really had loved. Though they remained on the ground, Rhysand watched as ice, and fire and light and wind merged together under his mate, and a small tear escaped him as he understood. This power, for the child of all seven courts. The power that had been returned to them upon her death was now a part of her once more. Keeping his eyes on his mate, Rhysand spoke.

"We have won this war, but it has not been without loss. I know that many fell today on these battlefields, and that you are eager to meet the person who saved the rest of us. Well, here she is." Small gasps rippled throughout the crowd as they understood. "Feyre Archeron, the High Lady of the Night court, the child of all seven courts, Feyre Cursebreaker, Feyre Cauldron-Blessed, your saviour, is dead." The second of silence seemed to drag on forever, as Rhysand stared at the woman who had meant so many things to so many different people. Then, one person began to yell, began to scream. Rhysand raised his head, watching as someone pushed through the crowds, his red hair gleaming. Lucien ran for the body, still yelling her name.

"Feyre, Feyre, Feyre." He stroked her hair, and Rhysand stared at the man who had been Feyre's first true friend ever. He sobbed her name, as though he was waiting for her to respond, to awaken. A hand touched Rhys' shoulder, and he spun. There, confused expressions as they took in the Inner Circle, stood Miryam and Draykon.

"Rhysand?" Draykon stepped forwards, frowning at the son of the High Lord of Day sobbing over the body. "Who was she? How did she save us?" Rhysand closed his eyes.

"She was my mate." Looking back to the body, Rhysand felt the words go through him. "My mate." His thoughts were interrupted by a small, sprightly woman, wings flaring out beside her, who stepped forwards, her face stunned.

"Azriel." Rhysand remembered the friendship between Nephelle and his shadowsinger, and was unsurprised that she had sought him out when she had arrived. What he didn't understand, was the strange expression that overtook Azriel's face as he took in the woman. Something like pain and a promise of something unfulfilled met his eyes, as tears ran down his cheeks, and Mor reached out, hugging him tightly, though she too knew not why seeing Nephelle prompted further waves of grief. It didn't matter though, as she held him, and his tears fell onto her golden hair.

"She should have met her. I told her the story and it helped and she should have been here to meet her." His sorrow was not a shock to anyone, especially as the proof of his agony, still lay before them all. All noise hushed over the battlefield, and even Lucien stepped away from the body, staring at the male that approached. The entirety of the inner circle stiffened, though Elain's steely expression remained as it had since she had viewed Feyre's body for the first time. Twisting around so that he could see who approached his mate, Rhysand balled his fists, not knowing what to do. It turned out he didn't have to do anything, however, for a shriek sounded from behind him, a shriek full of agony and anger and hatred, that caused Rhys' blood to freeze. Elain Archeron launched herself at the High Lord of the Spring court, breaking away from where she had remained unfeeling until now. Tamlin just stared at the female who ran for him, her scream the only sound across the whole battlefield. The female who so rarely said anything bad about anyone, who Rhys had never heard raise her voice in his life and who tended her gardens with love and care, slammed into the High Lord, and his shock allowed her to push him to the ground where she straddled him, clawing out blindly for the male, desperate to cause him some of the pain that now ravaged her. Seeing Tamlin's claws escape his knuckles, Azriel and Cassian grabbed out for Elain, dragging her off the High Lord, in an attempt to protect her. He staggered to his feet, but watched as she writhed in the arms of the Illyrians, trying to escape so she could finish what she started, not caring if it got her killed in the process. Nesta, who had watched frozen up until now, had moved closer to Elain, yelling her name, whilst tears fell down her cheeks for her broken sister. Elain paid her no heed, however, bucking and kicking in the arms of the shadowsinger and the general. Azriel watched the flashes of abhorrence and hatred on Elain's face and knew that she would be forever different.

"You did this! This was your fault. She is dead and it is because of you. You killed my baby sister, you killed my baby sister. I hope you live forever with the guilt of this hanging over you. I hope that you are never happy. You killed my sister, my little sister. I hate you, I hate you." She screamed these words, never pausing, never growing tired, though she still scrambled from the strong hands hold her. Tamlin's face seemed so weak, as though he was being hit each time another of her words reached him. Rhysand couldn't watch anymore, couldn't watch as the most peaceful person he had ever met was overtaken by violence and revulsion and sorrow. The darkness reached out to Elain, and lulled her to sleep, and finally she went still in Azriel's arms, who simply handed her to her sister, knowing that Nesta needed her, the one family member that she had left. Crouched beside her sleeping sister on the bloodied battlefield with tears running down her cheeks, Nesta watched as Lucien approached his former friend. This was a man that he had known for over three centuries, who had been his closest friend. Then he had met a brown haired mortal who had shown him that perhaps, his friendship with Tamlin was not what it should be. With that mortal, he had begun to see what friendship should truly be, someone that gave up their name to save you and who loved you for who you were. Now she was gone, and Tamlin was stood before him. No one truly knew what was going to happen, but glancing back at his sleeping mate, and the gash that she had left on Tamlin's cheek, Lucien punched the High Lord of Spring, knocking him to the floor. Without saying anything, Lucien returned to stand by the body of his truest friend, withdrawn into himself. Rhysand couldn't say or do anything, instead he just watched as the High lord of the `spring court pulled himself to his feet and turned to Lucien once more. Then, with a gasp from the still watching ground, he spat at Lucien's feet, before spinning on his heels and stalking away. Rhys felt Cassian move, felt him ready himself to fight the male, but Mor's voice, still choked with tears, stopped him.

"No," she said, placing a hand on Cassian's shoulder, who paused looking back to Mor, who simply stared at the body still. "We need to take her home." And, without a word from anyone, without the objections that they needed to stay and negotiate, Rhysand pulled his mate into his arms and winnowed to Velaris. Winnowed home, his court following him only moments later, not bothering to acknowledge the staring individuals.

When they arrived in the front room of the town house, the court gathered around where Rhysand stood with Feyre still in his arms, there was silence. Even Nesta's sobs had ceased, and they just watched as the strongest male that they knew, the man who had brought them together and who had saved them all, sunk to his knees, clutching his mate's corpse to his chest, and sobbed.


End file.
